


A Little Touch

by aftersoon (notboldly)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: First Time, Inopportune Boners, Kink Meme, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/aftersoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People just didn't touch Bruce Banner. Then again, Tony Stark wasn't exactly "people."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Touch

A Little Touch

Even before Bruce Banner had become the Hulk, he was never a very physically affectionate man. There were a lot of things that contributed to this—rough childhood, fear of his own strength, a brief bout of mysophobia in college, general awkwardness—but while he often thought that this lack was the reason for his unfulfilling and short-lived relationships, he knew it wasn't all bad. Once he hit his early twenties and became respectfully stocky in build, he was often called the "strong and silent type"; he figured, all things considered, he could live with that. It wasn't so bad to be considered stoic, even if the label was mostly inaccurate…and then the Hulk happened, and everything changed. Bruce had never been affectionate because of his own fears; knowing that he'd never get the chance to be so because of everyone _else's_ fears was something else entirely.

After the accident, there were a lot of adjustments to make. Sex (when he found it) was usually brief, almost perfunctory, and lacking in affection, but this was what he expected of casual relationships. It was everything else, everything he had never considered. He missed it, because there was a lot to miss. Handshakes. High fives. Hugs. Pats on the back. Cuddling. Just brushing shoulders, or arms, or legs. He never stayed in one place long enough to warrant these signs from others, and once he was around those who actually knew him, what he could do and what he became, they never happened again. Not even by accident.

No one could blame him, he figured, for reacting to human touch in a way that was…somewhat odd once Tony Stark came along.

Their meeting was simple, an introduction, a _handshake._ It floored Bruce, made him quake with relief and something undefinable, and letting go was difficult. Even after Tony left to wipe the floor with a government agency's firewall, he still felt it, the tingle, the warmth. His palms were sweating, and he didn't know why…and since the result of unexpected stimulus in his experience tended to end with a visit from the Other Guy, he tried to avoid it ever happening again.

It became readily apparent that Tony Stark didn't have boundaries, however. He got in Bruce's face, even when a screen separated them. He poked him with strange objects out of curiosity. He clapped a hand on Bruce's shoulder when everyone else still flinched away…and he did so again, even after Loki was defeated and the Hulk had torn through the helicarrier and buildings and the other Avengers rightly stayed at least two feet away at all times. Tony didn't _learn_ …or maybe he simply learned different lessons from the same things, a genius watching life in a way that no one else understood.

He touched Bruce when everyone else avoided it, and that was "all the time." Bruce reacted the same way each time, with a tremble, a shuddering breath. The reaction was slight, barely noticeable, easily dismissed.

It was inevitable and just his luck that it didn't stay that way.

********

The embarrassing part was that Tony noticed first. They were in Tony's workshop, a place too hectic to be called a lab but too brilliant to be called much else, and Bruce was helpfully looking over specs for the latest stabilizers for the suit. As a physicist, he found them amazing…but as a physicist who specialized in radiation of many varieties, he also found the way they succeeded at propelling the suit somewhat problematic, the equivalent in radiation of a thousand cell phones. Bruce couldn't imagine keeping them close to the human body for very long; fortunately, Tony agreed with him, and so had consulted the only radiation specialist he counted among his friends.

Bruce was taking notes on the clear screen when Tony came up to him, peeking over his shoulder and nodding as a wide smile briefly appeared on his lips.

"Yes! That's _exactly_ what I was looking for!" He clapped Bruce hard on one arm, a touch that lingered in the form of an arm stretched across his shoulders. "You're brilliant, Banner—sometimes, I don't know how you stand it."

Bruce smiled shyly and fidgeted, because a compliment from _Tony Stark_ about _intelligence_? He was glad that JARVIS automatically recorded everything that happened in the Tower, because he couldn't imagine it would come up again.

"Thank you, Tony. You too, by the way." He expected a quick comment of false modesty and overt preening, since it was Tony. It didn't come, and Bruce glanced to his right in the silence.

Tony was looking down, and looking contemplative and disbelieving. Bruce followed his gaze down and then back up quickly, realizing the source of Tony's expression as he acknowledged that yes, Tony's arm was warm and welcome and heavy and _god_ , but he'd never been so embarrassed in his life.

He had an erection. A _massive_ erection, clearly defined by his pants, straining against his belt buckle…and all from a simple touch. He shrugged Tony's arm off, but the damage was done and Tony didn't listen to the sorts of social conventions that said these things were best ignored.

"I-I'm sorry," Bruce stammered, and he knew he was blushing; his glasses were fogging to the point where he could hardly see the screen, but he stared hard at it anyway, thankful he had something to look at other than Tony's face. "I don't—this has _never_ happened to me before." And it hadn't, not since he was a teenager and hormones made him hard and aching whenever there was a strong breeze. _God_.

Tony, however, only shrugged.

"It's not a problem. These things happen sometimes." And then he walked away, mumbling as he did about radiation and coolant and new elements never before considered. There was no teasing, no acknowledgement at all past the initial surprise, no comment about hormones or science geeks or the Hulk.

To Bruce's knowledge, it was the easiest Tony had ever let go of anything.

********

As much as Tony's non-reaction surprised Bruce, it was the days that followed that left him confused; specifically, the fact that Tony's attitude changed, but in the wrong way. Tony didn't avoid touching Bruce out of a plan to avoid awkwardness, he didn't stop the casual affection or the brief rewarding touches that he'd gotten in the habit of giving. Tony didn't pull away at all…and if anything, the frequency of the touches _increased_. After Bruce's embarrassing reaction, Tony never again handed him anything without brushing their fingertips together. He never followed Bruce down a hallway or up a ladder without a hand on his back to "steady him." He never sat next to him on the couch without pressing their thighs together, never sat across from him while eating without tangling their legs, and never peered over his shoulder without pressing his front to Bruce's back. Bruce didn't think the increase in faux-casual contact was a coincidence, but for the most part, he ignored it. As a sensation overload, it felt nice. He didn't mind the warmth…nor did he want to draw attention to the fact that his one "embarrassing" reaction was happening a lot more frequently these days.

He thought he was doing well, in fact, until dinner one night. It was much closer to midnight than dinnertime, but scientists didn't follow the normal chain of daytime events anyway, and there was leftover potato and leek soup; Bruce figured the timing didn't matter much and helped himself to a bowl before sitting on a stool at the oblong dining table. He knew Tony was awake and somewhere behind him, moving around the bar for a nightcap, but this was one of the times Bruce thought it would be better to ignore him. He was still feeling…odd from the hug he'd received that afternoon.

Then Tony came up behind him and quite calmly laid his hands against the sides of Bruce's neck, thumbs touching lightly over his spine. There was no excuse given, and it was in no way a casual, friendly touch.

Truthfully, they had left the realm of casual touches _days_ ago.

"Tony," Bruce said, voice a warning. It wasn't a particularly effective one, primarily because Bruce was leaning into the hands now skimming down his back with the lightest of pressure. That was another bad consequence of increased Tony exposure, aside from inappropriate arousal: the instinct to melt.

"You look tense, Big Guy," was Tony's reply, a soft breath against his hair. "I could help with that. Been to a lot of massage parlors in my day."

Bruce snorted in amusement. "Yeah, I'll bet you have," he murmured, not unkindly. Tony was really something else sometimes, but right now, he was purely determined. Bruce sighed in surrender, the sound overblown and not nearly as reluctant as he would have liked. It had been a long day, a long evening, and was looking to be a long night; he found himself in the curious position of wanting to say _damn the consequences._ "If I say 'yes,' will you let me finish my dinner afterwards?"

Tony took a moment to think about it. "Maybe. Solid maybe."

Bruce figured that was the best he could hope for from Tony, so he just nodded and leaned back despite his better instincts, carefully pushing his bowl of soup further away from the edge as he did so. Tony's hands moved back up to his neck in response, fingers softly kneading the muscles below his nape. It…felt nice. Too nice for Bruce's peace of mind, probably, but at that moment, he was too busy enjoying it to think about possible consequences. Tony's fingers were firm and certain, and they moved easily along the muscles under his shirt collar, a steady half circle path that he maintained as his hands slid down. There was pain from tense muscles being worked, but not much, not enough for Bruce to pull away. There was also a shiver from being touched, a distant and familiar throb when he realized Tony's hands were hot enough to feel through cloth, and he closed his eyes in bliss. He even groaned, because it was only polite to let your masseuse know they were doing well.

Tony, however, froze at the sound. Bruce barely refrained from whimpering.

"This would work better with your shirt off, and some lotion," Tony explained into the silence, but Bruce just shook his head lightly. Fingers carded through his hair very briefly, the motion pushing it away from his neck, and he shivered some more.

"I'm not taking my clothes off for you." Bruce couldn't see anything with his head turned away and his eyes closed, but he guessed that Tony was smiling.

"Suit yourself." Yes, definitely smiling. "Maybe your neck, though?" He touched a finger to Bruce's carotid artery, a single rough fingerprint, and Bruce trembled and nodded, wordless consent.

He did have to wonder, though, when Tony pulled away and the action was followed almost immediately by the sound of a bottle's opening snap cap.

"Why exactly do you have lotion?" There was suspicion there, but not enough for Bruce to open his eyes. Tony chuckled, the sound loud as he squeezed the lotion into his palms and warmed it between his hands.

"Calm down, Banner. The Iron Man suit isn't good on the hands, that's all; Pepper's orders."

Right. Pepper. The reason why this entire encounter was a bad idea was summarized in one word, but at the touch of fingers gliding once more across his bare neck, eased by sudden lotion, he rationalized it away. They weren't doing anything wrong. There were no plans to do anything wrong. Bruce would never…enjoy more than a massage. Or at least that's what he told himself; it was awfully hard to maintain the thought when Tony pulled and pushed _just_ right, first at the tense muscles at the base of his head and then down further, fingers digging _in_.

Bruce was already feeling boneless by the time Tony had reached his lower back, and although his shoulders were sore, he knew it was the sort of ache that led to a good night's rest. He was fighting off the urge to sleep at that very moment, in fact, when he felt one hand slide along his side to rest on his stomach, followed by the inquisitive tap of fingers at his belt.

Bruce's eyes snapped open.

"Tony…"

Tony leaned forward, and Bruce knew— _knew_ —it was to better look at his lap over his shoulder. When those fingers tapped again, insistent, Bruce laid a hand over them and looked hard at the tabletop.

Tony made a disappointed and disbelieving sound.

"You're the one who gets hard every time I touch you."

Bruce flushed. "You said it wasn't a problem."

Tony was close enough that Bruce felt his shrug.

"I did, and it's not. Just…interesting." The word and Tony's tone made it sound like an engineering marvel rather than an inappropriate erection in (relative) public, and Bruce shook his head, cheeks still heating but amusement creeping in despite that. Tony's free hand slid up to his shoulder, an attempt to relax him. "Nobody's reacted to me that way since college. And even then I think it was a reaction to my money." He leaned closer, lips next to Bruce's ear for his next words. "I'm _flattered_."

And obliging, Bruce gathered. He didn't know whether to be cautious, embarrassed, or turned on.

"Pepper…" Because somebody needed to say it, and Bruce liked to think he was generally a good guy. He might not have had the willpower to resist (although he was still holding out _hope_ that he did) but he could at least mention the elephant in the room.

Tony laughed and squeezed Bruce's shoulder in reply.

"That's over. Has been for a long time. A _really_ long time. Ages." He sounded as serious as he ever was, exaggeration aside. Bruce relaxed minutely, because his one reason to protest (at least the only one that he was acknowledging) had suddenly disappeared. It was oddly freeing…and he removed his hand, leaned back into Tony slightly, and thought he didn't mind, because Tony touched and talked and held him close like a friend. A favor between friends, Bruce figured. That's all.

The hand on his stomach gave him a reassuring pat, and then skimmed what flesh he could reach under the waist of his pants. Bruce shuddered, and Tony shifted closer. Tony sounded his normal amused, arrogant self when he spoke.

"Besides, I'm a fan of happy endings."

Bruce huffed out a laugh, because _of course_ those were the types of massage parlors Tony had been talking about, the kind he frequented. It made the situation funny and perfectly clear, but to be fair to the good men and women who must have worked in those places, they had taught Tony how to give a decent massage.

He gave better handjobs. From being able to undo Bruce's belt with one hand to a warm grip that was just the right amount of _slick_ , to his other hand that stayed pressed flat against his back and moved in soothing circles. Bruce was no expert, but it rated easily in his top five sexual experiences. When Tony leaned even closer, breathing hotly against his neck and pressing the curve of his own erection into Bruce's back, Bruce revised that: top three. Definitely top three.

Then his hand twisted perfectly, squeezed just so, and Bruce stopped comparing. Tony knew what he was doing and he knew how to _give_ , showing no reluctance to play with his foreskin or squeeze at the base, showing only interest in the thick weight of his cock and the embarrassingly-early precum on the tip. He was a little rough at points and Bruce responded by being a little eager, but mostly Tony hummed like it gave him deep pleasure to be the one touching him, the one exploring for reactions. It was all Bruce needed.

Tony knew that too.

"Bruce. Tissue?" It was the first thing he'd said since they'd began, and Bruce obliged, handing him one and feeling so _close_. Tony squeezed again, slid the tissue gently over sensitive skin, and then Bruce was gasping quietly, hands gripping tightly to the table edge while Tony pumped him to completion into his covered hand.

Afterwards, he mopped him up gently and put his clothes to rights while Bruce grunted a 'thank you.' He really _did_ feel boneless and tired, but then Tony leaned over him to throw the tissue away, still hard against his back, and Bruce came back from the edge to look at him.

"Anything I can do for you?" He asked, and Tony looked surprised. Briefly.

Then he winked. "Maybe later." He nodded to the bowl of soup, no longer giving off steam. "You're hungry, right?" Bruce nodded and reluctantly spun his stool back around, although—to be completely honest—he wasn't particularly in the mood for soup anymore.

Tony responded by slapping him hard on the ass, making Bruce jump and almost spill it, and then taking off down the hallway. Bruce laughed and, although it was lukewarm by now, continued eating.

Once he got around to it, Tony was in for a surprise.

********

End

**Author's Note:**

> Fulfills two kink meme prompts, located here:
> 
> http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/5102.html?thread=4854766#t4854766
> 
> http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/7293.html?thread=13481341#t13481341


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